


Foggy the Miracle Worker

by Zelofheda



Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-28
Updated: 2015-10-01
Packaged: 2018-04-23 20:18:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,331
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4890715
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zelofheda/pseuds/Zelofheda
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Matt teams up with the Avengers to fight a sorcerer, but when the effects of an aggressive spell take away his hearing, they need to find a way to communicate with him.  That's all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Matt didn’t mind the Avengers per se. He’d met most of them at one point or another, and their interactions had been pleasant, but brief. Or perhaps they’d been pleasant because they were brief. Matt had no intention of getting to know them any better, and certainly not of joining them. Because although Matt knew what he was up against when it came to human smugglers, drug rings, and any other kind of low-life criminal activity, whenever the Avengers showed up en masse in Hell’s Kitchen, it usually meant they were battling something supernatural and/or just plain weird. 

Matt did not like supernatural, or weird, and he especially did not like man-sized bumblebees flying around his neighbourhood, buzzing as loudly as small jet engines, and with stingers as long as his arm. Since they were in his neighbourhood, however, he felt obliged to help the Avengers in the battle. Thankfully, there were only three, as the wanna-be sorcerer hadn’t had the means to create more and still keep his giant bodyguards. Even more thankfully, Iron Man and Hawkeye were dealing with the bumblebees, firing blasts of energy and incendiary arrows at them. It was left to Captain America, Black Widow, and Daredevil to fight the bodyguards. 

And Matt fought. There were three bodyguards, one for each of them, and they kept the Avengers from getting close to the would-be sorcerer, who was controlling the bees from behind the steering wheel of a open jeep and giving a loud commentary at the same time.

“Did I tell you that I call them spelling bees?” the sorcerer was repeating for at least the fifth time since Matt’s arrival.

“Yes,” murmured Steve Rogers from somewhere on Matt’s left, along with the meaty sound of punches being exchanged. “You told us.”

“I wanted to make five of them and call them the Hive Five,” the sorcerer went on. Matt had heard that part, too. It hadn’t been funny the first time.

“I’ve spelled them to sting, and whenever they sting someone, the spell makes sure I get that person’s strongest attribute,” the sorcerer cried out. “And now I’m going to sting … that guy with the arrows!”

He’d been going on about who he was going to sting for a while, now, but hadn’t actually managed to get anybody yet.

Matt tried his best back flip, hitting his bodyguard in the head with both feet and all of his momentum, but although the giant staggered, he merely brushed Matt aside with a massive arm, and Matt crashed to the asphalt. From one of the rooftops above, he heard Clint Barton cry out in agony, heard Tony Stark call, “Hawkeye’s down!”

Matt’s heart sank a little; he’d been hoping that there wouldn’t be a first time for the massive bumblebees.

“Not … down,” Clint gasped. “Tony … pull the stinger out!”

Matt pulled himself upright and aimed next for the giant’s knee, trying to kick it from the side. It was like kicking a brick wall, and he was the one who collapsed. The giant raised one foot as though he were the Hulk, ready to smash, and Matt rolled speedily onto his feet again.

“There’s no stinger. I can’t pull something out that’s not there,” Tony replied. Matt could hear him hovering nearby, probably directly over Clint.

“Sure feels like it,” Clint groaned.

“Apparently, they’re not exactly like bees,” Tony mused, and then there was the sound of repulsors and energy beams.

“I’ve got your aim now!” the sorcerer crowed. 

Matt tried kicking the giant again, this time between the legs, and was rewarded with a slight “uff!” Well, it was a start.

“And I’ll get your nose!” Cliff shouted. There was the twang of a bowstring, and then a stunned silence. Then another twang. And another. Matt went for another kick, only to have the giant grab his leg and flip him over, then drop him on his face.

“Aww, bow,” Clint moaned. “Aww, sorcerer.”

“Aim at something else, maybe you’ll hit him by mistake,” Tony suggested, blasting in one direction and then another.

Matt scrabbled away from the giant, only to have it grab his ankle and pull him back. He was dangling upside down when there was a whoosh much too close to his foot. The hand around his ankle jerked, then opened, and Matt fell awkwardly onto one shoulder. He could hear the grunts and inarticulate exclamations from Steve and Natasha nearby as they fought their own giants.

“Hah! Look at that!” the sorcerer screeched in delight. Matt winced at how high his voice went as he continued, “Tony Stark used to be Iron Man until he took an arrow to the knee!”

“Hey, I wanted to say that,” Tony grunted as he fought off the next bumblebee attack.

“Sorry, Tony,” Clint called.

“Hey, it’s okay, it only got the suit. No damage.”

“I think it’s time to call in the Hulk.”

“Yeah, I think you’re right,” said Tony. “And I’ve got an idea, too. BRB!”

Matt tried to remember what BRB stood for as he kept up his routine of attacking and retreating. It was slightly less important than the fact that he was slowly but surely being mashed to a pulp.

“He got me!” Steve cried. “I’m stung!”

“And I’ve got superstrength now!” the sorcerer told him. “I’m Captain America now – you’re just … Captain Floppy. Hey, grab your shield, then you can be Captain Floppy Disc!”

“If I still had my aim, I’d shoot his tongue out,” Daredevil heard Clint murmur.

“Wait until I sting the Hulk, though!” the sorcerer cried gleefully. “I’ll be the mean green spelling machine!”

“What attribute will you get if you sting yourself?” Clint called back. “A super dose of being an asshole?”

Matt helped launch Natasha into the air so that she could aim her Widow’s Bites directly at the head of one of the giants. It seemed to work; Matt heard the bodyguard roar and felt him stagger.

“Again!” Natasha whispered, just loud enough for Matt to hear. He laced his fingers, waited for her to run up and jump into his hands, then tossed her upwards. She fired again, and this time the giant went down, collapsing at Matt’s feet. He jumped instinctively backwards.

“Great work,” Steve called. He was lying on the ground, not moving. Matt wondered briefly just how much strength he had left. He sensed one of the giants coming towards the motionless figure, and ran to pull Steve out of the way. To his surprise, Clint helped him, grabbing a leg as well, and then they both ducked as one of the bumblebees flew overhead.

“Where’d Tony go?” Matt asked, but just then, Iron Man’s repulsors returned, and there was a slight dragging sound along with them.

“Just gonna hook this up –“ Tony said. “Keep fighting, guys!”

Matt heard another bumblebee come towards him. This time, he crouched, then sprang upwards into a back flip, hitting its underside with his feet and sending it off course. He landed more or less the way he wanted to, only to have to leap out of the way as another bee honed in on him. 

“Got it!” It was Tony’s turn to crow, and then there was a great wet, whooshing, roaring sound. It took Matt a moment to realize it was the sound of water, coming out of a hose, as though Tony wanted to extinguish a fire. He was spraying it at the bumblebees; Matt heard their buzzing become louder and more angry, and their flight become more laboured as their wings were affected. 

“Daredevil, five o’clock!” Steve shouted, and Matt turned to kick out at the bodyguard’s hand as it reached for him. Tony turned the spray in his direction, and they both went down, tangled together. Matt tried immediately to get upright again, but the giant had caught his arm in an unyielding grip. Around him, there was noise, so much noise; a bone-rattling roar from nearby, a buzzing sound getting much too close, the sound of the rushing water, Iron Man’s repulsors, and Steve calling out for the Hulk to smash.

Then something buried itself in his stomach, bringing pure agony with it, and suddenly, there was no sound at all.


	2. Chapter 2

It was Tony’s brilliant idea that saved them; utilizing the hose from the recently arrived fire truck and hooking it up to the nearby hydrant. Once soaked, the bumblebees could no longer fly, and Hulk took massive pleasure in stomping on them until they stopped twitching, minding the stingers even before Clint and Steve could warn him. Tony had also managed to keep the bodyguards busy with well-aimed bursts of water until Hulk was free to deal with them. While Hulk was smashing, Clint helped Natasha secure the sorcerer, who was cowering in his jeep with his hands over his ears. When Clint discovered that the loss of his aim meant he couldn’t even land a punch even when the man was right in front of him, Natasha used her Widow’s Bite to tase him, then graciously allowed Clint to put the handcuffs on. At least he was able to manage that.

“Little hand here, guys?” Steve called out. He was still lying on the ground where Clint and Daredevil had dropped him, and Clint jogged over to give a hand.

“He didn’t just take my superstrength,” Steve panted as he tried to stand upright and collapsed again. “He took it all.”

“Aww, muscles,” Clint said, and practically dragged his friend over to the Quinjet. His back stung like fire where the bumblebee had got him, but he gritted his teeth against the pain and slung Steve into one of the seats. Seeing Steve slump, fearing he no longer had what it took to sit up on his own, Clint used the shoulder belts to hold him in place, then went back to where the sorcerer was starting to stir. Yup, the scrawny little man had barely opened his eyes before his flexing hands broke the handcuffs.

“Hulk!” Clint yelled, pointing down. “Knock him out!”

Hulk did exactly that, and Tony came swooping in to gather up the unconscious form. “I’ll take him from here, get him into the Hulk-Holder on the helicarrier.” 

Seeing other motions out of the corner of his eye, Clint turned. Natasha had just rolled away from Daredevil; now she got to her feet in a defensive position.

“Nat?” he called out, approaching cautiously. Had Hulk missed one of the bodyguards? No, it was just Daredevil, staggering around as though he didn’t know which way was up.

“Daredevil?” Natasha called out, louder. “You okay?”

She approached him head on. “Look at me. You okay?”

Daredevil didn’t even seem to notice. Clint moved forward when it seemed Daredevil would trip over his own feet, and caught him by the arm. Immediately, the man in the mask lashed out with his free hand, hitting Clint in the face and giving him a shaky, but still painful kick in the shin as well.

“Whoa, bro,” Clint called out, not letting go. “I’m not the enemy! They’re down. It’s over!”

Daredevil didn’t seem to hear him, simply lashed out again, this time hitting Clint’s wrist so that he was forced to break his hold.

“Hulk smash?” 

“No, Hulk!” Natasha called back. “Daredevil is our friend. One of the good guys.”

Clint had taken one step back and simply watched as Daredevil struggled to retain his balance. He didn’t react at all to Hulk’s question, or to Natasha’s reply. Instead, he turned his head back and forth, back and forth, and Clint thought randomly that if it could have gone all the way acound, he would have looked like a rotating radar antenna. But when the Hulk ambled over, the ground shaking slightly beneath his feet, Daredevil stopped moving his head and began to scramble away from where the Hulk was approaching.

“Devil hurt Hawkeye,” Hulk announced ominously.

“Hulk, stop!” Clint cried, and Hulk obeyed so quickly that he froze with one foot in the air. Daredevil stopped as well.

“Softly, Hulk,” Clint said, motioning for Hulk to complete his step. The Hulk put his foot down with as much gentleness as he could manage, but Daredevil must have still heard something, because he resumed his efforts to crawl away backwards.

“Daredevil is scared,” Natasha told the Hulk. Daredevil didn’t respond to that, and Clint realized he’d only responded to Hulk’s movements because they shook the ground. 

“He can’t hear,” Clint cried. “That sorcerer took his hearing!”

Natasha tried again to approach Daredevil, coming slowly towards him with her hands up to show no ill intent. Daredevil had backed himself up against the jeep, and crouched there, obviously not knowing which way to turn next. Natasha squatted down in front of him, but although she made calming motions with her hands, Daredevil wasn’t watching. He’d started doing his radar thing again, and Clint heard him sniff a time or two as well. When Natasha placed a hand on his knee, however, he exploded into action, grabbing her arm and twisting. She managed to break away, but held her wrist in a careful position that Clint knew meant she’d been hurt.

“Devil hurt Widow,” Hulk said. “Hulk hurt Devil!”

He stomped forward, making Daredevil scrabble away to one side, but Natasha ran forward to put her good hand on the Hulk’s thigh. “Daredevil can’t hear. I think Daredevil can’t see, either. He doesn’t know who we are. We need to help him, not hurt him. Hulk, can you help? Carry him to the Quinjet?”

“Devil need help?” Hulk leaned closer, and Daredevil stopped crawling, tensing to defend himself if attacked again. “Hulk carry!” 

Then Hulk grabbed him around the waist and lifted him up. Daredevil thrashed, but couldn’t get away, and a moment later, Hulk used both arms to pin him to his chest in a crushing version of the bridal carry.

“You okay, Barton?” Natasha asked, and Clint nodded. “It stings like hell, but I think I can fly, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“Any trouble breathing? Dizziness? Nausea?”

“Nope,” he insisted. 

“Shield will do the cleanup,” Natasha said, motioning the agents to come forward and deal with the remains of the bumblebees and the bodyguards. Then she turned back to Clint. “Come on, then. Let’s get everybody back to the helicarrier and into medical.”

The Hulk was already sitting in the bay of the Quinjet, taking up most of the room as he hugged Daredevil to his chest. Daredevil was still fighting, Clint saw as he squeezed by to the cockpit, or at least wriggling. He’d also started making panicked sounds as he tried again and again to free himself, and Clint wondered if he knew he was doing anything audible. Hulk began to make sounds, too, and after a moment, Clint recognized them as Hulk’s version of “Sshhh, sshhh.” As Clint settled into the pilot’s seat, the Quinjet began to creak rhythmically, and he glanced back in horror only to see that the Hulk was now rocking Daredevil back and forth like a baby.

Halfway through the flight, however, Hulk stopped rocking and shushing, and stood up abruptly with an umistakeable cry of “Yuck!”

“What happened?” Clint asked, trying to get the Quinjet level again.

“Daredevil threw up, so Hulk dropped him,” Natasha called back.

“Hulk go. Banner _wash_!” Hulk announced.

“No, Hulk, please stay,” Natasha pleaded. “We need Hulk’s help. It’s all right. We can wash it off later. Please. Hold Devil.”

Hulk sat down again with another turbulent thump. “No. Devil yuck!”

“Don’t rock the plane, Hulk, or we will all be throwing up in a minute,” Steve said. A moment later, he called out. “He’s wandering around … he’s coming towards me! Help! Hulk, get him off!”

“Devil yuck!” Hulk replied, sounding petulant, and didn’t move.

“What’s going on?” Clint asked, wishing he had a rearview mirror. “If I have to stop this plane and come back there …”

“Got him!” Natasha yelled, and Clint heard the familiar sound of punches being exchanged.

“Hulk, please!” Steve cried. “Now he’s hurting Natasha! Please, just … hold him down? On the deck?”

There were a few more thumps, and Steve squawked, “No, don’t sit on him! Not on his stomach, anyway. Sit on his legs! Hold his hands!”

“Devil yuck _again_!” Hulk said.

“But not on you,” Natasha replied. She sounded breathless enough that Clint began to worry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last chance to vote for the Daredevil Minor Character Fic Fest, if you haven't already! Voting ends to-morrow.
> 
> Read all eight fics here:
> 
> http://archiveofourown.org/collections/DD_Minor_Character_Ficfest
> 
> Then vote for your favourite here:
> 
> http://www.poll-maker.com/poll418976x0d8E4Da2-17


	3. Chapter 3

Clint landed the plane a few minutes later, having called for medical assistance and a gurney with strong restraints, then got up from his seat to see Hulk was indeed sitting on Daredevil’s legs, and holding his hands pinned to the deck at his side. Daredevil’s face was turned away, and Clint could hear him gasping and sobbing at the same time. As he got closer, he could also smell vomit; there was a small pool of it next to Daredevil’s head.

Clint pressed the button to open the hatch, and Hulk took that as a sign to let go and start shrinking back into Bruce Banner again. Daredevil rolled over and got to his hands and knees, trembling visibly. Then he must have felt the vibration as the hatch hit the deck of the helicarrier, because he scrambled to his feet and made a shaky run for it. Fortunately, he collided with one of the medical personal and they both fell over.

“Grab him!” Clint shouted, coming in to help. “Restrain him!”

Fortunately, the medics were experienced in that sort of thing. Four of them descended on Daredevil, each grabbing an arm or a leg, and in carefully synchronised movements, they lifted him up, got him onto the gurney, covered him with a blanket, and strapped him down. Clint found himself wondering if they practiced such things as part of their training, or if they’d had to learn it solely through experience. He knew he’d been part of that experience at least once.

“Don’t untie him,” Clint said. “Consider him violent and unpredictable.”

“What’s going on?” It was Bruce at his side, looking even more miserable than he usually did coming out of a Hulk transformation. One of the medics stepped forwards with a blanket, and Bruce pulled it around his shoulders.

“We’ll need a gurney for Steve, too,” Clint said. “He’s lost his strength.”

“Right away,” the man said.

“Did I hurt anybody?” Bruce asked, then indicated where the medics were wheeling Daredevil away. “Did I hurt him?”

“We only needed Hulk to hold him down,” Clint said. “You didn’t hurt him. Much.”

Bruce looked unhappy at the “much” but said only, “I thought he was on our side.”

“He was, until he got stung, and now he thinks we’re the enemy. He can’t hear, and Natasha thinks he can’t see anything, either.” Clint reached out for Natasha, who was only just then coming down the ramp. “How’s your arm? Is it broken?”

“Maybe cracked,” she admitted. “How’s the sting?”

“Still hurts like hell.”

“Looks like it’s swelling,” Bruce put in. “I can see that from here.”

“We’d better get to medical, then.” Clint made a face, and although Natasha didn’t, he knew she felt the same way.

All three of them walked along the corridors, making room for the gurney that was carrying Steve to race by, and Natasha said, “Those things sting you, and get your aim. They sting Steve, and get his strength. Then they sting Daredevil, and get both his hearing and his sight? That doesn’t add up.”

“Maybe it stung him twice?” Clint asked.

“It didn’t. I was watching. It stung him once and Hulk grabbed it right off him.”

“So you’re saying that Daredevil had to be blind before this,” Bruce said, “because the spell took his strongest attribute away, and if he were blind, his strong point would have been his hearing.”

“Yes,” said Natasha.

“So now we have to find a way to communicate with him so that he knows we’re friends and not enemies,” Clint mused. He wore hearing aids himself; he could only imagine what it must be like to suddenly be blind as well as deaf. No wonder Daredevil had reacted with panicked violence.

“Easy enough to scan his face and run it through facial recognition,” Natasha said.

Still in his Iron Man suit, Tony he met them at the door to the medical bay. Apparently he had caught only the last sentence of their conversation, because he said, “Already did that. Guess what, his name’s Beeman. Seriously. Except his first name is Scott, not Bumble. Scott Beeman, he’s a low-level mutant, tried to apprentice himself to Doctor Strange, went well for a year or two, until he was apparently seduced by the dark side of the Force, then he went off on his own and began to create giant bumblebees.”

“No Sith?” Clint asked. 

Tony shrugged. “Maybe he was inspired by his own name. Imagine what he’d come up with if he were named Fisher.”

“Or Dickens,” Bruce said quietly. Clint grinned, and Tony pretended to be offended. “Hey, I wanted to say that!”

“We were talking about Daredevil,” Natasha said with her best disapproving face. “If we can get his mask off, we can find out who he is.”

In the medical bay, Daredevil’s gurney was next to Steve’s, who was telling the medical staff about the giant bumblebees. They had cut away the Captain America uniform, and Clint could see where Steve’s left arm was red and swollen. Two male nurses were attending Daredevil; one had pushed back part of the blanket and was holding his arm down, despite the strap, so that the other could put a large padded cuff around his wrist. They’d already done the other side, and as soon as they were finished, they moved down to his legs. As they started to unlace his boots, Daredevil thrashed as much as he could, which wasn’t very much. Clint felt sorry for him.

A nurse approached Clint. “Agent Barton? If you’d like to come this way, please.” 

“I’ll be with you in two minutes,” Clint said. “We just want to find out who Daredevil is.”

The nurse turned to Bruce. “Dr Banner?”

“I’m fine,” Bruce said. “And I want to see who this Daredevil is, too.”

The nurse set her eyes on Natasha, who ignored her, and it was Tony who spoke. 

“All of us. Together,” he said. “It shouldn’t take long, in case you were planning to check me over, too. Not that I’m hurt, but I might need some tender loving care after Aimless here shot an arrow into my suit.”

The nurse smiled her best professional smile and went back to Steve’s side of the room.

Natasha went around to stand at Daredevil’s head, then ran her good hand over his cowl, checking to see if there were any fastenings she needed to be aware of. Sensing that Natasha was there in her official capacity, the nurses stepped back to let her get on with it. Daredevil jerked his head away, but Clint caught him and held him tight despite his efforts to get free. Working together, Natasha and Clint pulled the cowl back and away, evading Daredevil’s attempt to bite, and laid his face bare.

Tony flipped his faceplate down again to transmit the image to his AI. There were bruises and scrapes over the lower half of Daredevil’s face, and although his eyes moved, they didn’t focus on anything. He looked both defiant and scared, and he strained against the cuffs.

“Matthew Murdock,” Tony announced as the information came in. “Partner at Nelson and Murdock, Attorneys at Law, located in Hell’s Kitchen. Oh! In the picture on file, he’s got sunglasses and a white cane.”

“We’d already figured out that he was blind,” Natasha said. Daredevil turned his head and started to vomit, and Clint moved away in disgust. The others followed, and the nurses moved back in to take their place.

“Who’s Nelson? Can we contact him?” Clint asked, watching one nurse undo the strap across Daredevil’s chest, then try to cut the man’s uniform open. It seemed to be lined with something impervious to normal scissors; the nurse went to a drawer and came back with heavier shears. 

“Getting an address … now,” Tony said. “Here. Franklin P. Nelson. I can fly over and pick him up if you guys want?”

Natasha pulled her phone from an inside pocket. “Let’s call him up and talk to him first. Give me the number.”

Obligingly, Franklin Nelson picked up on the third ring. “Hello?”

“Is this Franklin Nelson?” Natasha asked.

“That’s me,” he replied amiably. “How can I help you?”

The nurse unpeeled Daredevil’s uniform, folding it away to the sides, and Clint could see the huge red swelling on his upper abdomen, with a dark spot in the middle. He wondered if his own back looked the same, because it certainly felt like it.

“My name is Natasha Romanoff, I’m with the Avengers. You might have noticed an incident earlier this evening in Hell’s Kitchen?”

“The Avengers? Black Widow?” Nelson sounded surprised and somehow wary; a tone of voice that Clint was familiar with. So many people thought they were being pranked when a real member of the Avengers called up.

“Your partner Matthew Murdock was injured in the incident,” Natasha went on. “We already know he’s blind, but he was deafened as well.”

“Oh, g-d, Matt,” Nelson exhaled.

“We need a way to communicate with him, tell him that he’s safe and the … incident is over,” Natasha said.

Nelson thought for a moment, then exclaimed suddenly, “Braille! He’s got a Braille printer in the office, we can print out something for him to read. With his fingers.”

“That’s perfect,” Natasha said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just found out I won the Daredevil Minor Character Fic Fest with my story "A Different Kind of Superhero." And got a tied second place, too, with my other story "Fanged Robbery." I'm so excited! *does little happy dance* Thank you everybody who read them, and a special thanks to everybody who voted, whether for me or for the other stories.


	4. Chapter 4

Because there was nothing else going on around him, nobody attacking or restraining him, Matt had given up struggling for the moment. The sudden lack of activity had him worried, but at least it was better than being crushed by one of those giant bodyguards. He was still feeling sick from the flight, or perhaps it was from being stung, and he’d thrown up again since being forced into the cuffs. His whole abdomen pulsed with agony, and his breathing felt laboured. His captors had managed to cut through the front of his suit and pull it wide open, leaving him naked and vulnerable. They had also, without warning, had plunged a needle into his upper thigh, and he had no way of knowing what they’d injected him with. At least they’d covered him with a blanket afterwards, a blanket made of the roughest sandpaper that scoured his skin each time he moved. He tried not to move, not to draw attention to himself, but the waiting itself was torment, and he was trembling with fear. What further torture were they going to inflict upon him next? Had the sorcerer and his giant creatures captured him with the intent of _experimenting_ on him?

But at least the pain was better than the utter panic he’d experienced when his hearing had gone. It was as though he’d lost all capability to sense anything at all, as though he were trapped in his own mind without any escape. The pain reminded him that he was still alive, that he could still feel _something_. He could still move, still strike out and defend himself – if only he could tell where to aim. For the moment, though, he didn’t need to lash out, though he remained tense, waiting, trying to somehow sense if someone or something were getting close, if he needed to fight again.

For the first time in his life, he couldn’t hear anything, not even his own voice. There was no sound at all, no voices, no whispers of cloth, no breathing, no heartbeats, nothing to give him any clues about his surroundings. He was left only with his senses of smell and touch to orient himself, but there were too many smells here, and too little to touch. Without his hearing, he couldn’t classify the odours, couldn’t sort them out and determine where they belonged. Well, except for one distinct scent that he knew meant a certain creature that was so much bigger and stronger than he was. He already knew what it meant when that scent got stronger and closer, the panic it had brought, and the utter panic it would bring if he ever smelled it again.

Matt tried not to panic, even without that distinctive odour. He tried to keep his terror in check by breathing in a regular rhythm, but it was hard to breathe through his nose. His lungs seemed to be demanding more oxygen, and he had to open his mouth to get it, which left him unable to track anything by scent. Without warning, something touched his hand and he jerked, startled almost to the point of a heart attack. Whoever it was patted him twice, then slipped something papery underneath his hand and tried to straighten out his fingers. He curled them instinctively into a fist, tugging at the cuff that held his arm down, then heaved his upper body up and over to where he thought the person might be standing. His head collided with a piece of clothing, but the person wearing it jumped back fast enough to prevent anything more than a slight bump. 

Matt sucked air through his nose as strong hands pushed him back down and held him. He had to revert to gasping through his mouth, but he’d gotten enough of the scent to realize it wasn’t that particular one and he didn’t have to panic. In fact, he thought one of the people around him smelled like Foggy, but that couldn’t be right. Foggy couldn’t be here, could he, not unless they’d captured him as well. Had they? Already cold where the blanket had slipped down to his waist, Matt shivered even more. 

The person tried his hand again, forcing his index finger away from his palm. Matt resisted, straining against the grip, but he was unable to pull away. The person started to slide his finger back and forth, back and forth across the strangely bumpy paper, not letting him touch it too forcefully, but making sure he was still in contact. And then he realized. The bumps were Braille! He identified a G and a Y, then another Y and an O.

It was such a relief that he relaxed his hand, not fighting anymore. The hand holding his let go and bumped his knuckles against the back of Matt’s hand. Matt sought out the rest of the message, pulling the paper down to read it from the top. Because of the restraint around his wrist, he had to keep shifting the page to get to the next word, and then down to the next line. 

_This is Foggy. You are safe. You are with the Avengers on their helicarrier. Don’t fight them. They want to help you._

“Foggy!” he said, or hoped he did. He couldn’t be sure he was making noise. Maybe he was shouting. He extended his hand as much as he could, reaching out and waving a little, and was rewarded when Foggy took his hand and squeezed it. After a moment, Foggy let go, repositioned the paper under his hand, and guided his fingers to the next line. Matt read it eagerly.

_I’ll squeeze your hand once for yes and twice for no. Okay?_

“Okay,” Matt said, and Foggy squeezed his hand once. Matt squeezed back, smiling, then felt Foggy undo the cuff around his wrist. Someone else released the cuffs from his other wrist and his ankles, and Matt sat up immediately, reaching out for his best friend.

“Foggy,” he said again, and Foggy was there, hugging him back. Eventually, however, Foggy’s suit coat scraped against the bee sting, and Matt gasped, then pulled back a little. Foggy pulled back even more, giving Matt’s hand one big squeeze before letting go completely.

There was a long pause, or at least it seemed long to Matt, in which he couldn’t tell what was going on. Eventually, however, Foggy produced another piece of paper for Matt to read.

_I brought my laptop and your Braille printer from the office so we can communicate. How do you feel? Don’t say everything is fine, because Black Widow can tell if you’re lying. Not as good as you, but good enough. And I told her to kick your ass if you’re not honest. So tell them exactly what hurts._

Smiling a little at the part about Black Widow, Matt let his left hand hover just above his swollen stomach and said, “This really hurts – it’s stinging and burning. Am I talking loud enough, can you hear me?”

Foggy squeezed his right hand once.

“Am I too loud?”

Two squeezes. Matt nodded and went on. “I still feel kind of sick. I don’t have any broken bones, but some of them are cracked. Ribs, mostly, and my shoulder. My head aches.” Foggy gave him an encouraging series of pokes in the palm of his hand, and he sighed. “Okay, Foggy, to be honest, my whole body aches, and this blanket is really scratchy.”

There was another long pause while Foggy wrote the next message and printed it out.

_You’re in the medical bay on a helicarrier, not in Tony Stark’s penthouse. No silk sheets here. They say they’ve given you an antihistamine shot because you were throwing up. They can give you some other stuff, too, like a painkiller. I know, I know, I’ve told them you don’t like them. But dude, you’ve pretty much lost all your senses anyway, how much worse can it get?_

Matt smiled at Foggy’s personality coming through the written word, and announced, “I can still smell you, Foggy. It can get worse.”

The next message seemed to take forever, and while he was waiting, Matt thought to ask, “Foggy, what about the sorcerer? Did they catch him?”

_They don’t think a painkiller will affect your sense of smell. They want give you some steroids and other stuff because you’ve been vomiting, and you’re starting to wheeze, if you couldn’t tell. Okay, they want me to tell you they will give you a shot of epinephrine, an IV of cortisone and more antihistamine, albuterol to inhale, and oxygen. Just say yes, Matt. Apparently that bee was bigger than I am and they’re worried about how much venom you’ve all been injected with. I’ll be with you the whole time, I promise, even if you can’t smell me, or you lose your sense of touch or whatever. They have the sorcerer in custody. Tony Stark is talking about certain methods of getting him to reverse the spell, which sounds like torture to me, but I don’t care, because then you’ll be able to hear again. But until then, dude, just let them help you, okay?_

Matt had already felt his lungs tightening, and didn’t hesitate. “Okay, Foggy. Yes.”

The people around him must have only been waiting for the word, because they swarmed into activity as soon as Matt had spoken. They placed something to his lips, and Foggy gave him a message telling him how to inhale, so he did, and another paper telling him that they were going to transfer him to a bed. They gave him another shot, this time in the buttock, then helped him into a pair of fleecy sweat pants, cuddly enough that Matt suspected Foggy had had a stern word with them about Matt’s delicate sense of touch. They didn’t give him a shirt, or even a gown, keeping his chest free instead for electrodes to monitor his heart. They put a needle into a vein in his arm for the IV, laid a tube across his upper lip and guided tiny nozzles into his nostrils. They lifted the head of Matt’s bed so that he was reclining instead of lying flat, then settled a sheet halfway up his chest that was only slightly less scratchy than the blanket. And all the time, Foggy was there, keeping his hand either directly on Matt’s or elsewhere on his arm.

When nothing more happened, Matt sank down onto the pillow, already starting to feel woozy from the painkiller and whatever else they’d given him. He didn’t like feeling woozy, but at least he could breathe easier and his stomach wasn’t burning as badly. “Foggy?”

Foggy patted his arm.

“Can you get me some water?”

Foggy squeezed his hand, and after a moment, returned with another paper.

_I’ve got a cup here with a straw. You shouldn’t drink too fast. Also, we should learn Morse code so we can thump each other on the back in case this ever happens again._

“If this happens again and you thump me anywhere, Foggy, I’ll still think somebody is attacking me,” he said. “Morse code would be useless.”

Foggy folded Matt’s fingers into a loose fist and bumped his knuckles against Matt’s, then guided the straw to his lips. Smiling at the gesture, Matt took measured swallows, rinsing his mouth and soothing his throat until the water was gone, then sighed in relief. Although he didn’t know how long it would take for the spell to be reversed and for him to be released from his nightmare, he knew that he could bear it now, because Foggy was there.

“Foggy?” he said. “I’m just going to rest for a while now, okay?”

Foggy squeezed his hand again, pulled the sheet up to Matt’s neck, then bent over and kissed Matt lightly on the forehead. Matt smiled a little, reached out to take his friend’s hand, and closed his eyes.

And, he thought as he drifted off to sleep, the next time the Avengers came to his neighbourhood, he was going to run as fast as he could in the opposite direction.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry this was so short and abrupt. I hope you liked it anyway. My next stories are longer.


End file.
